RHETT
Avoiding her is harder than facing a rogue in the dark. I have faced claws, I have faced blood, I have faced challenges to my authority without flinching. But Nola? Nola is different.
She is standing across the kitchen from me, barefoot on the cool tile, wearing sleep shorts that barely brush the tops of her thighs and a thin tank that clings to her curves like it was made to test my restraint. And I am losing that restraint inch by inch. I keep my focus on the counter in front of me, on the coffee I am not drinking, on the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Anything but her. It does not help.
My wolf is restless beneath my skin. Every time she moves, it reacts. Every time she shifts her weight, every time she reaches for something on the shelf and her shirt lifts slightly, exposing a
